Scarlet Sand
by Crescent Moon Dancer
Summary: Anger. Roses. Sharingan. What do they all have in common? The color red. The color of blood. And it is all Gaara can see.


**Greetings, oh valued reader who has stumbled across my story. This is my first attempt at a Naruto fanfiction, and since I'm only sixty-nine episodes in, (or something like that,) I don't know everything there is to know about the characters, so please forgive any discrepancies. I found it interesting, though, when Sasuke stabbed Gaara with his Thousand Birds technique and Gaara seemed to have a minor mental collapse at the sight of his own blood, so I decided to tap into our favorite Sand Village genin's head and translate that scene into his own words. Hope you enjoy - I had waaay too much fun writing it. XD**

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Warm. Wet. Sticky. And red. So very, very red. My mind, so recently alive with the concentration of my transformation, erupts into a white, spiraling void of panic and shock.

I am bleeding.

It flows from my shoulder, sliding down my arm and drenching my hands in scarlet. I hear myself, as though from a great distance, my voice echoing in my ringing ears: _"Blood? My blood?"_

It can't be real. This can't be happening, this isn't _supposed_ to happen! I am not supposed to fail. I am not supposed to lose.

I am not supposed to _bleed._

Whatever that Uchiha brat has done, whatever technique he is using, his chakra has penetrated my sand shield, plunging through it like common glass and blazing its way into my shoulder like a sword of white-hot iron, or a crackling lightning bolt. My vision dances treacherously as he thrusts his sparking weapon deeper into my arm, and I become dimly aware of a high-pitched, guttural screaming that seems to be coming from me.

This cannot be happening. The sand - my shield, my armor, my guardian - has failed me. For the first time since I was a small child, my sand failed to protect me and the enemy has gotten in, shattering my supposedly impenetrable defenses.

And shattering me.

I thought I was invincible. I thought no one could beat me. For years, I lived and thrived on the death of others, drawing my strength from watching the light and life fade from the eyes of my victims. That was the purpose for my existence. My purpose in these pathetic chunin exams was to watch the life fade from the eyes of Sasuke Uchiha, to soak the dusty ground with his blood, to end the Uchiha line forever, and to spark a war that would destroy the Hidden Leaf village.

The Hidden Leaf village _will_ fall - of that I am sure. But I have fallen first.

And it's shaken me to the core.

Vaguely, I register the fact that my sand bubble has collapsed around me, and I am left kneeling in a semicircle of coarse grains that are slowly turning red, absorbing the color and scent of my blood.

 _This is wrong. It shouldn't be mine! It shouldn't...be...mine.._

Behind me, I hear Temari's voice, high and worried. _"I knew it! He's hurt!"_ All about me is an indistinct hum of noise and color, and I distantly sense people standing around me, but all I can focus on is the collapsed pile of sand, and my own blood.

 _My own blood._

How many A-ranked missions have I completed without a scratch? How many people have I calmly, easily killed without so much as breaking a sweat? How many hundreds of times has the sand flowed from my gourd, protecting me of it's own will while squeezing the life out of my opponents? And yet here I am, kneeling on the arena field, my shoulder feeling as though it is on fire and my hands slick and red with _my own blood._

My breath comes in ragged, wheezing gasps, and my mind is screaming against the unreality of it all. Every time I close my eyes, I see Sasuke's sharingan imprinted on my eyelids, boring into my brain. It should not have availed him anything in this match; I do not have to use chakra to control the sand, it protects me of itself, and therefor there is no jutsu, no technique for him to copy.

And yet here I am.

I dimly notice that someone - Kankuro, probably - has pulled my arm over their shoulder, and I am being led away from the field. Distant explosions boom dully in the background, and there are panicked shouts bombarding us from all directions, but above all the cacophony is the steady _plop, plop, plop_ echoing in my ears as scarlet droplets fall from my fingers.

My chin drops to my chest as the world fades to grey, a black void hovering on the edges of my vision - and then the blackness swallows me.

And then it turns red.

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 **Thanks so much for reading, and please review if you have a moment. (I may or may not have Orochimaru on speed dial - draw your own conclusions...muahahahahaha..)**


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